He had had no quarrels since long ago he had resented Tom McGregor's rudeness to Leila and had suffered the humiliation of defeat in his brief battle with the bigger boy.

The easy victor, Tom, had half forgotten or ignored it, as boys do.

Now as they considered an unpleasant situation, Joe Grace, the son of the Baptist preacher, broke the silence.
He announced what was the general conclusion, halting for emphasis as he spoke.
"I say, fellows, there will be an awful row." "That's so," said William, the butcher's son.
"Anyhow," remarked Ashton, whose father was a foreman at the mills, "it was great fun; didn't think Billy could run like that." It will be observed that the young gentleman of ten months ago had become comfortably democratic in his associations and had shed much of his too-fine manners as the herding instincts of the boy made the society of comrades desirable when Leila's company was not attainable.
"Oh!" he said, "Billy can run, but I had none of the fun." Then he asked anxiously, "Did Billy get as far as the house ?" "You bet," said Baynton, the son of the carpenter, "I saw him, heard him shout to the Squire.

Guess it's all over town by this time." "Anyhow it was you, John, set it up," said a timid little boy, the child of the blacksmith.
"That's so," said Grace, "guess you'll catch it hot." John considered the last spokesman with scorn as Tom, his former foe, said, "Shut up, Joe Grace, you were quick enough to go into it--and me too." "Thanks," said John, reluctantly acknowledging the confession of partnership in the mischief, "I am glad one of you has a little--well, honour." They went on their way in silence and left him alone.

Nothing was said of the matter at the dinner-table, where to John's relief Mr.Rivers was a guest.